


Zephyranthes

by IonianAstronaut



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:35:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28904247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IonianAstronaut/pseuds/IonianAstronaut
Summary: The story of Hazel and Celia, and how the two of them ended up in a small town in the southern parts of the Esmar Empire
Relationships: Hazel/Celia
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

It had rained all day; a torrent pouring out of the heavens like the clouds had something to prove. Only when what little light there was had begun to disappear behind the horizon, the dark clouds had disappeared and left their grey counterparts behind to cover the sky as far as the eye could see.

Hazel had taken the reprieve as an opportunity to set up everyone’s tent and get a fire going, however small it was. Egan and Kester were not back yet, and there was no telling when they would return. When she was done with that work, Thildi unceremoniously dropped all of her weapons at Hazel’s feet, to clean and sharpen before they were affected by the rain that had soaked into everything all day. Though she was exhausted, there was nothing she could say or do about it, so Hazel got up and pulled the entire kit out of her bag. She secured her many small braids in a ponytail behind her head, so they wouldn’t get in the way, and got to work.

Thildi sat down close to the campfire and started brushing out her messy and wet hair. A deep silence hung over the camp, only interrupted by the occasional sounds of the mules and of Hazel running the daggers over the whetstone one by one.

The darkness set in quickly. Hazel chewed on her dinner – some stale bread and a handful of meat jerky – while she worked. That way, there would be no opportunity for Thildi to accuse her of being lazy and assigning her some hard or humiliating task. Not that they even needed an excuse.

That was the way it had been ever since she had been conscripted into the Viceroy’s pet project of a personal army. Hazel bitterly recalled the fear in her mother’s eyes as she urged her to run; the way she had almost gotten away; the way they had ambushed and caught her a few miles from her uncle’s farm. The punishment for trying to run away was being conscripted at the lowest rank, meaning even people who had never held a real sword in their life could boss you around, without you being able to say anything in return.

Hazel looked up from her work when she heard footsteps approaching. Three people came into view at the edge of the small circle of light emanating from the campfire: Egan, Kester, and the young horned woman they dragged with them.

She hung limply in their arms. Her brown skin, which was just a few shades lighter than Hazel’s, and brown, tightly curled hair were filthy, and she was wearing a torn and smudged shirt and a pair of pants that didn’t look much better. Her infernal heritage was betrayed by the horns on her head and the pointed tail that was curled around one of her legs. Her deep brown eyes were wide with fear, gaze darting between everyone around the campfire. She looked more like a fawn, frozen in terror before an arrow struck it, than the vicious witch they had been sent here to pick up.

“Well, here we are.” Egan said. He and Kester dragged the tiefling close to the cluster of trees where their mules were tied up for the night and unceremoniously dumped her on the ground.

Kester made a face. “A waste of time, this one. Pisses me off. Didn’t say a word the whole day.”

Egan sighed and knelt next to the fire, warming his hands. The two of them had been gone for most of the day, longer than expected, and they looked tired.

The tiefling curled up into a ball, shivering in the chilly evening air.

“Why didn’t you just make her talk?” Thildi asked, from the other side of the fire.

“Why do you think?” Egan scoffed. “They coddle even murderers there. They have clerics ‘supervising’ every interrogation and they won’t let you lay a finger on a prisoner.”

A silence fell around the campfire. Everyone seemed to come to the same conclusion at the same time: _there was nothing stopping them now, though_.

With a sinking feeling, Hazel watched Kester get up, with an expression of sickening excitement on his face, and rush over to the tiefling they had brought with them. The tiefling whimpered when Kester grabbed her arms and dragged her towards him, half lifting her up as he shook her. “Feel like talking yet?” he yelled in her face as she gasped in pain.

Something about the sight made a dam break inside of Hazel. “Stop!” she shouted, jumping to her feet.

Kester ignored her and shook the tiefling more violently. “Let’s see if this helps you find your voice, huh?” He raised his fist to strike her.

In just three strides, Hazel was at his side. She grabbed the collar of his leather chestpiece and yanked it backwards, hard. Kester gasped and choked, and let go of the young woman as he was thrown onto his ass.

Hazel stepped in between him and the tiefling. “That’s enough.” Her heart was beating so loud in her chest that she felt it in her head.

Kester stared at her in shock for a moment, as if he couldn’t process that she had just stood up to him, before he scrambled to his feet. He stepped so close to her that their noses almost touched. She could smell his breath, which reeked of hard liquor and whatever it was he had for dinner.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” he hissed. She didn’t have time to respond before he punched her in the stomach hard enough to make her double over. The ground was cold and wet beneath her knees as she sank down, trying to catch her breath.

Kester scoffed. “Know your place, _conscript_.” He spat on the ground in front of her, like the word had left a bad taste in his mouth, and slinked towards the campfire.

Hazel didn’t know how long she lay there, the moisture from the ground soaking into her pants and boots. When she finally managed to compose herself, she gingerly got up and walked over to the spot where she had put her meager possessions.

The cold looks she got from Egan and Thildi made it clear that there would be no sympathy from them. Kester occasionally shot a glare her way and Hazel got the uncomfortable feeling that she had just signed herself up for a very hard journey.

Thildi broke the tense silence in the camp after a long time. “Hazel, go put her on the cart and give her one of the blankets.” she said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the tiefling and the small cart that stood next to the mules.

“She can sleep on the ground.” Kester growled.

“Fine! If you want to explain to the captain why you let our captive freeze to death after coming such a long way to get her, be my guest.” Thildi said, raising an eyebrow. At Kester’s stony silence, she continued, “Didn’t think so. What're you waiting for, Hazel? The sooner we get some rest, the sooner we can get out of this hellhole.”

Hazel got to her feet, still a bit off-balance from the receding pain in her stomach. She felt some small vindication, listening to how Thildi put Kester in his place, but it didn’t change her situation. 

She slowly approached the tiefling and reached out a hand to grab the young woman’s arm. The tiefling flinched, squeezing her eyes shut and shivering. Up close, Hazel noticed something that she hadn’t noticed from afar. The tiefling didn’t just look tired, she looked drained and fragile. How long had she been kept in captivity to get to this point?

“It’s okay,” Hazel murmured, quietly enough so that the others didn’t hear it, “I won’t hurt you. I’m just bringing you to the cart.” At that, the tiefling stopped shying away and let Hazel pull her to her feet. She was shaking so much that Hazel had to support her in walking to the cart.

“What’s your name?” Hazel asked, as she got the tiefling settled on the rickety wooden surface.

The tiefling didn’t respond, her gaze flicking between the people at the campfire and Hazel. Her shaking became a bit less severe when Hazel draped a spare blanket over her. The rough wool wasn’t the most comfortable but at least it was warm.

Hazel rolled up another blanket and put it down to serve as a pillow. She admired her handiwork for a moment, before turning to the tiefling again. “Sorry it’s not much.” she said.

The tiefling cast another glance in the direction of the campfire, and then grabbed Hazel’s hand and quickly traced a few shapes into her palm. Hazel had to process it for a moment before she realized what the tiefling had done. Letters, she had drawn letters into her hand.

C...E...L...I...A…

“Celia?” Hazel whispered. The tiefling gave the barest of nods.

Hazel wanted to say something, to thank her or to reassure her, but then Thildi’s voice rang out: “Are you going to stand there with your thumb up your ass for the whole night or are you going to get back to your work?”

Celia flinched and immediately pulled her hand back from Hazel’s, ducking into the blanket like it was armor. Hazel gritted her teeth, counted to ten and then turned around to return to her spot by the fire. Kester and Egan had also dumped their weapons there, so she had her work cut out for her.

The next morning, they broke camp as soon as the sun came up. The weather around these parts was notoriously bad this time of year, as they had experienced during the previous couple of days, so everyone wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.

Though Kester tried his best to make Hazel’s life a living hell by giving her as many meaningless tasks as possible, Egan and Thildi had little patience for things that slowed their travel down, so she was spared most of it.

She sat in the back of the cart, next to Celia, and worked on repairing a pair of leather boots and other small things to keep herself busy during the long day of travel. They had no further conversations, as the others were almost right next to them, but Hazel was very aware of the way Celia looked at her work and the way she moved.

When the light began to fade, they set up camp. Hazel tried to find a moment and an excuse to try and talk to Celia again but Kester kept her so busy that she was exhausted by the time it was time to go to sleep. When she got into her tent and her sleeping bag, she was asleep before her head hit the pillow. In the morning, they packed everything into the cart and departed again.

A half dozen days blended together like that, just endless stretches of travel with exhausting tasks and sleep in between.

Thoughts that had long simmered in Hazel’s subconscious began to come to a boil under the constant, monotonous march and Kester’s gleeful cruelty. She had to escape, to try and make another run for it. Her breaking point was fast approaching and there was no telling what would happen once it caught up with her.

But escaping meant she would have to take Celia with her. There was no way she would leave anyone with these people. Though they said that Celia was a horrible person, a vicious witch who killed cattle and destroyed an entire harvest out of jealousy, Hazel just didn’t see that in her eyes. She was so terrified that it couldn’t be an act.

RIght now, they were still in the middle of nowhere, but they were fast approaching more inhabited areas of the kingdom. If she were to escape, she would have to do it within the next few days.


	2. Chapter 2

Hazel stared at the ceiling of her tent, fighting the sleep that threatened to overtake her. For the past few nights, she had stayed awake in a similar way, to confirm a suspicion. One of the others left their tent every single night after a few hours of being there, and returned some time later. It was a golden opportunity to both take out one of her potential pursuers and to also get herself some weapons.

Though she dozed off every now and again, her patience was rewarded when she heard someone get up and leave their tent. Their gait made her think that it was either Kester or Egan. 

Only when complete silence had returned to the camp did Hazel dare to move. She threw aside her blanket and reached into her bag to grab the thin cord she had woven out of long strips of leather. As quietly as she could, she then shoved the few of her belongings still strewn around her tent into her bag and pushed aside the tent flap.

The only movement in their small camp came from the steadily burning campfire. The fastenings on Egan’s tent flap were undone, the fabric swaying gently in the breeze. Hazel snuck across the open space. Near the cart, she tucked her bag against a tree and looked around. Celia was lying in the cart, hidden away in her blanket and breathing evenly. Even in her sleep, she looked guarded.

Outside of the circle of light, Hazel spotted a small flickering light that had to be a torch or something like it. She crouched down and quickly but stealthily made her way over towards it. Once she was far enough away from the campfire, she closed her eyes and counted down, to let her eyes adjust to the dark.

In the light of the torch that was stuck into the ground, she could clearly see the outline of Egan standing near a bush, straightening his clothes. As swiftly as she could, Hazel snuck closer. Every rustle, every crunch of leaves sent jolts of adrenaline through her. He could turn around at any moment and then it would be over. But he didn’t, not even when she was right behind him. There was no turning back now.

Her foot connected with the back on his knee with a sickening sound, sending him crashing to the ground with little more than a shocked noise that got halfway stuck in his throat. As he fell, Hazel wrapped the woven cord around his throat and pulled hard, jamming her knee in his upper back for good measure.

Egan struggled and gasped but it was no use. In his panic, he didn’t reach for the daggers at his side and he instead pawed at the cord, but it was wrapped too tightly around his throat for him to get a grip on it.

Hazel held on until he went still and then a little longer, her arms quaking from the effort and the fear and adrenaline racing through her veins. When she finally let go, he slumped to the ground heavily, a deep red line visible on his throat.

Despite her hatred for him, Hazel couldn’t help but feel nauseous at the sight of his unmoving body. She didn’t know if he was dead but she didn’t plan on staying around and finding out. Shaking off her horror, she undid the belt with the two daggers fastened around his hips and put it on herself. She also stripped off his warm gambeson, after a moment of deliberation. She was wearing her own but Celia could use something more than the thin shirt she wore.

Finally, she took up the torch and slowly made her way back to the campsite. It was still as quiet and unchanged as when she had left it. They had been far enough away to not hear Egan’s last sound. Gingerly, so as not to make too much noise, Hazel placed the torch among the logs burning in the campfire. She watched the tents as she did so. She had come too far in this plan to mess it up now.

A prickle on the back of her neck told her she was being watched. Fearing it was Egan, she whipped around, only to see Celia staring at her from underneath her blanket. Hazel breathed a sigh of relief and quickly closed the distance between them, kneeling next to the cart so they were eye to eye.

“I’m leaving. Come with me.” she murmured, her words barely audible above the sounds of the crackling fire. Celia was as still as a statue, eyes filled with disbelief and a hint of suspicion. Hazel put the gambeson on the edge of the cart and Celia’s gaze immediately snapped down to look at it. “For you.” Hazel whispered. She got up and retrieved her bag, slinging it over her shoulder as she made her way back to the cart.

Celia was now sitting up, holding the gambeson in her hands, the blanket having slid off of her slightly. She looked up to Hazel and then looked back to the warm garment. After several long moments of deliberation, she met Hazel’s eyes again and nodded.

As she waited for Celia to finish getting dressed and gathering her blanket, Hazel kept an eye on the tents. Part of her wanted to retrieve more of Egan’s equipment from his tent, but she dismissed the idea. There was no need to push their luck.

Hazel took the folded-up blanket that Celia gingerly handed to her and stuffed it into her bag. Then she held out her hand to Celia. “Follow me. Don’t step anywhere I don’t.”

Celia looked at the nearby tents one last time and then placed her hand in Hazel’s.

They managed to get a good distance from the camp without making a sound. Celia was surprisingly stealthy and Hazel was impressed by how well she kept up. Now they were further away from the camp and under the veil of night, Hazel felt safer to move quicker than before. She set a sustainable but still fast pace so they could create as much distance between them and their pursuers, since there was no doubt in her mind that they would come after them.

The minutes turned into hours as they walked, nearly jogged, in silence. The perpetual up and down of their trek across hills and rocky cliffs was almost hypnotic but also very tiring.

Hazel wasn’t familiar with this region, so the only direction she had was “away” and she couldn’t help but feel like she was just aimlessly wandering. There weren’t any useful landmarks in this jagged and rough landscape, no towns nearby that let her know where she was.

Sooner than expected, a faint light on the horizon appeared, announcing the end of the night.

In the grey light of dawn, Hazel and Celia rested near a small creek, stilling their hunger with some of the rations they had brought. The sky was cloudy but there were no signs of coming rain. Hazel drained her waterskin and then refilled it in the creek before handing it to Celia.

Celia drank eagerly. She looked much worse for wear in the faint daylight, like she was going to collapse at any moment.

“We should find a safe place to sleep.” Hazel said, scanning the horizon for threats and potential hiding spots, “Being tired will only slow us down.”

Celia nodded. She went over to the creek and washed her face and hands in the cool water, drying off with the sleeves of her gambeson, which was too big for her. Then she refilled the waterskin before gently pressing the stopper back into the end of it and placing it into the bag.

Perhaps it was the fact that she had been up for more than a day and a night, but there was a grace in Celia’s movements that made Hazel forget herself and just stare. When Celia looked up from her kneeling position and met her gaze, Hazel quickly looked away, feeling her cheeks heating up with embarrassment. She picked up her bag, ignoring the protesting muscles in her legs, and swung it over her shoulder again.

They walked for another hour before they discovered a suitable hiding spot; a small cave in an impressively tall rocky cliff. The entrance was half-hidden behind some shrubs and the interior was just large enough to fit the two of them comfortably.

Hazel took up the spot near the entrance and watched as Celia settled in against the back wall of the cave, curling up with the blanket as a pillow under her head. Not much had been exchanged between them, save for names, but Hazel didn’t really know where to begin. Celia hadn’t spoken a word since they had fled, or even before that, and Hazel was uncertain whether that was her choice, a reaction to the whole experience or simply part of who she was. She seemed rather reserved and had not initiated any communication herself, so Hazel didn’t want to push her or make her uncomfortable by bringing it up.

Maybe now just wasn’t the right time. Maybe they were both just too focused on getting out of their precarious situation to think of anything else.

Feeling a headache coming on, Hazel rested her head against the stone behind her, her eyes slowly drooping closed. Her mind was screaming at her to stay awake, to keep watch, but exhaustion had her in its grip now and it wasn’t letting her go. Within seconds, she drifted off to a dreamless sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time Hazel woke up with a start, what seemed to be only moments later to her, the sun had set so far that the dim interior of the cave was now almost pitch-black. It was eerily quiet. 

“Celia?” she asked. Moments later, she heard the sounds of rustling fabric and a warm hand came to rest upon her own. “We should get moving.” she continued, after a sigh of relief. Celia gave her hand a quick squeeze of acknowledgement and then began to rummage around.

Hazel shuffled further towards the entrance and peeked out from behind the foliage. The sky had turned the deep orange of a sunset. It wouldn’t be long before there would only be the light of the moon and stars to guide their way.

She scanned the trees across the small clearing for threats, but she saw nothing strange, so she left their hiding spot and stood up straight. Only the sound of the leaves rustling in the wind and the soft noises of some animals moving around were audible in the tranquil quiet. Taking some deep breaths of crisp air, Hazel stretched and then grimaced at her still-sore muscles. 

She wanted to turn back to see how Celia was doing, but some slight movement she saw from the corner of her eye caught her attention. Maybe she could have convinced herself that the slightly swaying branch was just the result of an animal moving past it, but everything in her mind told her that this was not the case.

“Celia.” she whispered, keeping her eyes trained on the tree, where the branch had now returned to its inert state.

As quiet as a shadow, but with a sudden burst movement, a figure appeared from behind the tree, drawing a bow with the speed and finesse of a trained archer.

Hazel felt her body go hot and cold in an instant. She barely managed to grab onto the hilt of a dagger when a sharp pain tore through her side. The force with which the arrow lodged itself into her flesh threw her on her back, which also knocked the wind out of her. She coughed, gasping for air and trying to get her bearings.

Through the haze of pain and adrenaline, she heard rapid footsteps approaching and then saw Kester step over her. He had nocked his next arrow but not yet drawn the bow. “Did you really think it would be that easy?” He looked genuinely enraged, features twisted in a way that gave him an unsettling appearance in the fading light. “Where’s your little friend, huh? Or did that witch run off?”

Hazel furiously blinked against the black spots clouding her vision. It was hard to think with the haze in her head and the ringing in her ears. “Fuck you.” she managed to spit at him.

“You’re gonna wish you never laid a hand on Egan by the time I’m done with you.” Kester hissed, his voice low and threatening.

The moment he drew his bow again, the wooden frame caught fire, and he dropped it with a surprised yelp. The wood had blackened completely and the bowstring had snapped in the heat by the time it hit the rocky ground.

Kester furiously looked over to the side. Hazel managed to turn her head to follow his gaze and saw Celia standing there, hands raised in the air like she had just finished casting a spell.

“Ah, there she is. Just wait there, I’ll be right with you.” he said, casting a glance at Hazel before he focused his attention on Celia.

If Hazel mouth had wanted to cooperate, she would have cursed him from here to the Nine Hells and back. The last bit of her conscious, analytical brain wondered if the arrow had been poisoned. It would explain why she felt so strange and why everything was so fuzzy in her head.

Kester made a grab for Celia but lightning sprang from her hands, striking the hand he reached out with. He cried out in pain as she stumbled backwards in the breathing room this gave her and she picked up a branch, holding it out in front of her.

With trembling hands, Hazel reached for the arrow still embedded in her side. After gathering her courage, she broke the thin shaft a little bit above her wound, leaving the arrowhead in for now. There was no time for anything else.

The sound of Celia’s confrontation with Kester fueled Hazel in her attempt to get up and help. Celia had demonstrated her abilities but she was far from a trained fighter like Kester or Hazel. She could hold her own, but for how long?

Hazel felt the sweat pouring down her face as she got to her knees. She gasped in the now-cold air, resting for a moment, trying to ignore the sharp pain in her side. After breathing in deeply in anticipation, she grabbed onto a nearby tree and pulled herself to her feet. She felt wobbly and unstable, but nevertheless, she pulled one of her daggers out of its sheath, before making her first uncertain steps towards the blur of movement that was Celia and Kester.

She got to them at the moment Kester wrenched the branch out of Celia’s hands and struck her across the face so hard that she fell down. In an instant, he turned around and tackled Hazel to the ground, knocking the dagger out her hand in the process. 

The impact to the ground, now with Kester’s added weight on top, almost made Hazel black out. Though her vision swam, the sound of a dagger being pulled out of a sheath cut through the pain and confusion and she threw up her hands instinctively.

Quick as a viper, Kester brought the weapon down and she caught his wrists just in time to keep the blade from sinking into her chest. Her arms shook with the effort and her side burned as she felt Kester put his whole weight behind the dagger. A scream welled up from deep inside her, from the fibre of her very being, as she managed to keep him from pushing down further, but just barely. There was no way she could keep this up forever.

She had just finished that thought when she heard the sound of a dagger sinking into flesh. It was confusing for a second or two, as she had felt no pain. Had it killed her instantly?

But then the pressure on her arms relented, the dagger on her chest falling harmlessly to the side. Hazel looked up, blinking both against the darkness creeping at the edges of her vision and the sight before her.

Kester looked baffled, his hands uselessly reaching for a dagger that had sunk all the way into the place where his neck met his shoulder. Celia’s hand was still wrapped around the hilt, and she pulled him off of Hazel in the same motion where she yanked the dagger out of him.

Staring at the slowly darkening sky above her, Hazel heard Celia bring the dagger down on Kester many more times as he screamed in agony, choking on his own blood.

Then it was completely, utterly, deafeningly, mercifully silent.

Her vision becoming obscured by black spots again, Hazel managed to form a sound that sounded vaguely like Celia’s name. Moments later, she felt the other woman sink down next to her, felt two soft hands – sticky with blood, but she didn’t mind – on her face, felt those hands drift down and explore the wound on her side.

When Celia carefully gripped what was left of the arrow, Hazel wanted to protest but immediately felt she had no energy left to do it. Celia pressed her other hand to Hazel’s wound, firmly but still with a certain gentleness. Then the most amazing feeling of warmth and comfort flowed from her hand. Hazel immediately felt herself relax, the pain gone in an instant under the influence of the healing magic. Instead of the expected grueling process, Celia pulled out the arrowhead without Hazel feeling a shred of pain.

“Thank you…” Hazel sobbed, repeating the words like a chant, “Thank you, thank you thank you…” Tears of relief spilled down the sides of her face.

It was too much, all of it. Over the next however long it was, she drifted into and out of consciousness. Perhaps she slept, but it was fitful. In one of her more lucid moments, she drank from the cup that Celia pressed to her lips. It tasted really bad but Celia immediately gave her something that tasted sweet like honey afterwards. After that, her rest was much less feverish.

The next time she came to, it was like breaking through the surface of a lake after spending a long time in the inky depths. It was still night, judging by the waning moon and the stars above. A small campfire flickered somewhere near her feet. The sounds of the forest nightlife was accompanied by the sound of someone crying.

Hazel lifted her head from the folded blanket on which it lay and looked up.

Celia sat close to the fire, curled in on herself, with her hands clasped over her mouth as she cried with deep, heaving sobs. It looked like she had scrubbed the blood off of her hands but there were still stains on her shirt and pants.

Gingerly, Hazel pushed herself up on her elbows. Her side felt like new, there was no pain. She softly called out to Celia, who looked up with shocked surprise and then gave a watery smile, quickly making her way over to Hazel. They stared at each other for a moment and then they both moved in to embrace the other.

They held each other tight, letting out their emotions that had been built up for so long. Shuddering, Hazel realized that this was the first affectionate touch she had received since being conscripted, and that thought brought a fresh wave of tears.

When the worst of it had passed, they let each other go, and Celia retrieved a cloth for Hazel to clean her face with, while she used her own sleeves to do the same.

“Where is he?” Hazel asked. Celia pointed to a group of bushes some distance away. Hazel had to squint in the darkness but she could see the shape of legs and two feet sticking out from the plants.

That was two down. But after this, they probably wouldn’t have to worry about Thildi. Kester was proud and foolish enough to go after them alone but if there was anyone who would have the good sense of cutting and running after losing two of her companions, it would be her.

At least Kester was dead. Good. Hazel averted her gaze, feeling that guilt creep up inside of her at that thought, and looked back at Celia. “Are you okay?”

Celia gave another small smile and nodded, though it didn’t seem that genuine, but she quickly disguised it by gathering up the food they had left.

After they had shared a simple dinner and some water, Celia pulled up part of Hazel’s shirt to inspect her side. Hazel looked down and saw that the wound had closed up to a simple round scar. “Thank you.” she said again.

Celia started to make a motion with her hands but then stopped, looking pensive.

“You speak with your hands, uhm, with signs?” Hazel asked, to which Celia nodded. Hazel continued with, “Can you show me? I want to understand you.”

Celia smiled the first genuine, beaming smile Hazel had seen from her and it made a warmth spread through her chest.

They spent the next few hours there, Celia showing Hazel basic signs, drawing letters into her palm to convey the meaning, and Hazel trying her best to sear them into her memory so she could recognize them. 

When they were making preparations to depart in the light of dawn, Hazel resisted the urge to look at the place where Kester’s body was. As much as she hated him, she didn’t want to have to see him anymore, especially not in the state he was most likely in. The fact that the wild animals would have him was satisfying enough.

“Do we have everything?” Hazel asked.

“Yes.” Celia signed, before picking up the bag and handing it to her.

The two of them departed from the clearing between the forest and the cliff, walking side by side, and neither looked back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> girls who kill the people who wronged them together, stay together ❤️


End file.
